


Assignation in the Arboretum

by laleia



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plant sex, Tentacle Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7300573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laleia/pseuds/laleia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes her boys need a break, and Layla knows just the thing ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assignation in the Arboretum

“Now, remember, what’s your safeword?” Layla asked as she unlocked the door to her greenhouse and let her boys in.  She flicked on the lights and closed her eyes for a breath, savoring the scent of the exotic plants housed here, her precious babies.

“This is stupid. We’re superheroes, we don’t need safewords,” Warren scowled as he tromped in, shoulders slouched and feet kicking at the ground, looking exactly like he had in high school.  Will trailed after him like a shadow.  “It’s not like I can’t burn my way free or Will can’t super-strength his way out if we don’t like what you’re doing.”  

It wasn’t like that didn’t happen half the time when her boys  _ did _ like something.  They’d given up on sex at home after the fourth time Will had unthinkingly broken their bedframe in the heat of the moment, not to mention the countless smoke alarms Warren had set off.  The majority of their sex these days took place in empty warehouses (or, in this case, greenhouse) or discreet rentals where they resigned themselves in advance to never getting their deposit back.

It did make sex a little less fun when it had to be scheduled in advance, but Layla had long since come up with a solution for that.

Ergo, safewords.

“It shouldn’t ever get to that point,” Layla said as she locked the greenhouse door behind her.  “And, if I do my job right, you shouldn’t be thinking clearly enough to use your powers --  _ intentionally _ , at least.”  

Her obedient boys were waiting for her to lead the way, both fidgeting restlessly, Warren moreso than Will.  Layla smiled at them, a wicked promise of things to come, and began making her way through the greenhouse.  Unlike other people’s greenhouses, hers had no pathway - just plants upon plants that parted before her as she walked through them.

The boys followed, taking care only to step where she had.  She wouldn’t be happy if they trampled one of her plants.

There was a clearing in the middle of the greenhouse, the only patch of bare dirt amidst a tangle of greenery, one she had spent several hours yesterday coaxing the plants to leave open in preparation for today.  Also in the clearing:  a chair that she immediately gravitated toward.

Without a second thought, Warren and Will filed into the clearing behind her and presented themselves before the chair like naughty school boys.  Their fidgeting had stopped - now they were unnaturally still as they faced her, watching her with anticipation.

Layla smiled at them, then turned her back and lifted up her hair.  “Boys, could one of you help me with my-” 

She didn’t even have to finish before one set of sure hands was unzipping her skirt and a second set was helping tug her cotton blouse off over her head.  Warren and Will, respectively, she thought - Will wouldn’t dare pinch her ass while helping her with her skirt, but Warren would think it a riot.

“That’s enough,” Layla said, as she stepped out of her skirt and turned around.  Warren and Will fell back to parade rest, no sign they’d helped her strip down to her flimsy white bra and panties (not exactly matching but the boys never cared).  “So, safeword.”

“Sidekick,” Will and Warren recited in unison, Warren rolling his eyes.

“Good boys,” she said, her voice a sensuous purr that she’d once spent a whole week practicing so it would come off as sexy rather than ridiculous.  “Now, strip.”

Will immediately began toeing off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head, obedient boy that he was.  Warren, on the other hand, just stood there insolently with his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised.

“Do you need me to repeat myself, Warren?” Layla asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just that greenhouses have glass walls, Layla, and I didn’t want to give passersby a show,” Warren said.

At these words, Will flushed (and when Will flushed, he flushed  _ everywhere _ , as was evident every time they got him naked) for he’d forgotten quite how visible they’d be in the glass house.  He didn’t stop stripping though, and as he pulled down his pants, Layla observed with interest that his cock gone from half-mast to full.  She made a mental note to explore exhibitionism at a later date.

“I hadn’t realized you were such a prude,” Layla mock-sighed.  “Well, I guess if we’re protecting your sensibilities, measures must be taken.”

So saying, she snapped her fingers.  The plants that had surrounded them began growing, growing, growing until there was a wall of greenery surrounding them and no peeping Tom would have the slightest chance.  

“Now, strip.”

Warren just cocked his head with that dreadfully arrogant smirk, and snapped his own fingers.  A quick flash of fire and his clothes had burned to ashes against his skin.  Layla was impressed despite herself, though she did wonder how he planned to get home without any clothes when all this was over. Tonight was hers to show off, though, not his, so she made a show of ignoring his grandstanding and instead busied herself with inspecting the hard, muscled planes of her boys’ bodies and admiring their bobbing red cocks.

“Good boys,” she said, and then snapped again.

This time, the sprinklers in the greenhouse turned on, misting the plants and soaking her boys thoroughly in the process.  As expected, they jumped in shock and their cocks flagged at the sudden onset of cold water (though she was confident  _ that _ , at least, would be quickly remedied).

“What the fuck!” Warren demanded, bristling like a wet cat.  Will, good boy that he was, didn’t say a word even though he didn’t look particularly pleased either; he knew they were to be seen and not heard.  Warren would pay for his outbursts, later.  Even despite his displeasure, Layla caught Will’s impressed smile at her ingenuity - Warren might claim he had his pyrokinesis under control but the misting would ensure he didn’t accidentally burn down the warehouse if he had a particularly intense orgasm.  And Layla intended his orgasms tonight to be  _ very _ intense.

“What’s wrong?” Layla said, as the sprinklers died down.  “Don’t like the view?”  She leaned back in her chair and watched as the movement caught their attention.  She knew what they saw - her white bra was sheer from the water and she had no doubt that her tightening nipples were quite visible, from the way Will’s eyes darkened with lust and Warren’s complaints subsided.  She lifted one of her breasts out of the cup of the bra, kneading it and flicking the taut nub even as she spread her legs so they could see her curls through her now-transparent panties.

She preened before their attention, and let one hand drift down to slip between her legs.  The boys were too wrapped up in watching the show to notice the surrounding vines creeping towards them until it was too late.

Before Will could do more than inhale in surprise, some of the thickest, strongest vines she grew in her greenhouse had grabbed hold of Will and Warren, quickly pulling apart their hands and feet until they were suspended, spread-eagle, an inch off the ground.  They put up a token protest, of course, and both subtly tested their restraints to get a sense of how much they could struggle before accidentally breaking free.  Layla noted with satisfaction that both were surprised  by  how sturdy her vines were.

The boys’ show was over; now  _ her _ fun would begin.  Layla stripped off her bra and panties with ruthless efficiency and tossed her hair (aware the effect was slightly ruined because it was wet).  “Now, Warren,” she said, strutting toward him unselfconsciously and completely nude. “You’ve been a very bad boy, haven’t you?”

“I deserve to be punished,” Warren agreed, his grin anticipatory as Leila approached.  

She ruffled his hair in exasperation at his impudence, then walked behind him so he could no longer see her and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.  “You do deserve to be punished,” she agreed, breath hot in his ear.  “You’ve been a bad boy.  And bad boys don’t get to watch.”  At her words, a vine broke away from his restraints to cover his eyes like a blindfold.  She felt him tense at the loss of vision, as she’d guessed might happen, so she shifted positions and bit down on his shoulder, hard.  He hissed with surprise, and she licked the bite immediately afterwards, nipping her way up his neck to tongue the shell of his ear, until he’d relaxed.  

As soon as she felt his muscles ease, Layla chuckled.  “Bad boys don’t get to come, either.” A tiny vine snaked out to tighten at the base of his shaft, a vivid green cock ring.  “We’ll let you listen, though, so you know what you’re missing out on,” she breathed in his ear, then peeked down to see how Little Warren was doing. Warren’s cock was purple-red at this point, but he wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

“But Will, you’ve been a good boy, haven’t you?” Leila said, and she looked up to meet Will’s heated gaze.  She’d had the plants position the boys so they were facing each other, so each could watch her work on the other.  

“Yes, Mistress,” Will said breathlessly, with none of Warren’s bravado.

She gave Warren one last nip where his neck met his shoulder, and then stepped away from him and towards Will.  She heard Warren exhale sharply at the sudden loss of contact (not quite a whimper, Warren was too proud for that).  

“Such a good boy that you don’t need any help do you?  You can control yourself.”

When she’d reached him in a few strides, she wrapped her hand around his cock, leaning in to share a long kiss, and began stroking, nice, even strokes from root to tip that had him trembling and stiff.

“You won’t come without permission, my Will, will you?”

“I’ll try, Mistress,” Will said.

“Try?” Leila said dangerously, tightening her grip and wringing a delightfully needy whimper from Will.  “You’ll obey.”

“I’ll obey, Mistress,” Will said, even as he involuntarily thrust into her hand.  “I won’t- come without permission.”  His voice caught on the promise.

“You’re such a pussy,” Warren said.

“No comments from the peanut gallery,” Leila said, and she snapped with her free hand.  Behind her, another vine thrust into Warren’s mouth, thick enough to gag him.  She gave it some thought, and snapped again.  The vine began thrusting in and out, each thrust deeper and deeper until he was deepthroating it.  “Now, I know you can’t talk like this, Warren, so you won’t be able to safeword - if you bite down on the gag in your mouth, even just the slightest nip, this will all stop.”  

The muscles in Warren’s neck corded as he opened his jaw even wider, desperately trying to keep his teeth from even slightly scraping against the vine.  Finally, a challenge her naughty boy could work at.

Meanwhile, she left off her handjob, allowing a smaller vine to wrap around Will’s cock and resume stroking it.  She stepped closer, instead, and gave Will another long, bruising kiss before gesturing for the vines to lift him slightly so he was the right height for her to pay special attention to his nipples pebbled with cold.  As she left her mark, sometimes play-nibbling, sometimes biting down hard enough to draw blood (and how he’d cried out, when she’d been so lovingly attentive to his left nipple only to bite down so cruelly on his right), she made certain one of the vines tugged WIll’s head back by his hair, just far enough that it was slightly uncomfortable, and that he couldn’t help but watch Warren being throatfucked by a plant.

She willed the vines holding Will apart to move, and they did, pulling him up, pulling harder, pulling him wider, angling him just enough that she could feel his muscles straining to hold himself upright.  She loved that his thighs trembling to keep himself straight was a physical manifestation of how good he was trying to be for her.  She loved it so much she sank down to her knees so she could bite his thigh near the crease where thigh met hip, and made certain to bite hard enough that her teeth left behind marks, marking him as her property.

But perhaps she was paying too much attention to Will now, and not enough to Warren.  Poor Warren, who was hanging there in total darkness, unable to see anything, hearing only Will’s gasps of pleasure, and his cries of pain, his whimpers and keening cries, unable to see for himself the distress on Will’s face.  Will was so pretty when he was distressed.

She watched out of the corner of her eyes as the vines holding Warren up yanked him back so that he was suspended horizontally, his legs splayed wide open, his cock sticking straight up.

“Look at our boy, Will,” Layla said, voice pitched low to carry.  “Lying there, unable to see.  Do you think he’s getting bored?”

“No, Mistress,” Will said.

“If he’s not bored, it’s because you’re putting on a good show, Will, with all your whimpers and cries, isn’t it?” Layla said, and flicked his nipple as she said so, relishing the hitch in his breathing.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Yes, Mistress, what?”

“Yes, Mistress, I’m putting on a good show,” Will said, voice strained.  Layla looked down and noted with approval that he really was trying so hard to keep from coming, but the industrious little vine was squeezing his cock rhythmically and he would not have much choice soon.

“But he can’t  _ see _ how hard you’re trying to be a good boy, how hard you’re trying not to come from being jerked off by a plant, how you’re squirming with each pinch, each nip, each bite.”  She followed suit with a series of pinches and nips that had Will panting.  

“Maybe Warren deserves something more … exciting?” Layla asked, as if the idea had just occurred to her.

“Whatever Mistress thinks is best,” Will said.  She swiped a bead of pre-come from the tip of his cock and brought it to Will’s lips.  He didn’t even wait for a verbal command, but obediently took her finger into his mouth, tasting himself, tasting his desire.

“I’m glad you agree,” Layla smiled.  “Watch very carefully, Will.  Warren’s going to put on a good show for you.”

As she spoke, tiny vines began pulling apart Warren’s asscheeks, making their way inside.  She made sure they were gentle, were careful, that it was the tiniest of vines that began creeping their way inside Warren first, before the bigger ones.  Will watched, wide-eyed, as the vines worked Warren open, one, two, three at a time, and then a bigger vine began fucking Warren in earnest.

When the vine began fucking Warren, Layla wrapped her hand around Will’s cock, banishing the vine that had tormented him before.  She began stroking Will’s cock in time with the thrusts of the vine fucking Warren.

Warren strained to keep his mouth wide open and his teeth carefully away as he was fucked from both ends, vines holding him apart, vines pounding into him, and throughout it all, his cock red with arousal was still hard, unable to come.

Will was not so constrained.  “Mistress,” he panted, as he watched Warren’s body writhe, “I can’t-”

But it was too late.  Will had come with a cry, white streaks spurting as far as one might expect from someone with super-strength.  Layla had seen the sight many a time before, but she still admired it now, impressed at the quantity and force of semen he emitted.

When it had subsided, Layla threaded her fingers through Will’s hair.  “Will, did you have permission to come?” she asked pleasantly.

“No, Mistress,” Will said, a hitch in his voice.

“So what do you deserve, my boy?” Layla asked, yanking his head back and biting his ear.

“I deserve to be punished,” Will said quietly.

“Such a good boy,” Layla said sorrowfully.  “It’s too bad you could not be good to the end.  How should I punish you?”

Will’s eyes assessed their surroundings.  “I … I deserve to be whipped.”

“Yes, you do,” Layla said.  She gestured and two vines snaked out into her hands.  “I’m giving you a choice, Will.”  The two vines in her hands were quite different.  One was the same type of vine that she had used to bind Warren and Will, the same type that was currently fucking Warren in two different holes.

The other vine had thorns.

Will hesitated.  Layla knew Will, knew how much he wanted to be good, how much he always wanted to prove himself.  She knew that he would want the vine with thorns - but super strength did not mean super-healing and they had work to do the following week.

“The one without thorns,” Will said, sighing.

“Good boy,” Layla said, kissing his forehead.  “Fifty strokes, I think, to start with.  I want you to count.”  So saying, she walked away from Will and towards Warren.

The vines repositioned Will so that she could see his face, see his beautifully distraught expressions, and then the vine began whipping him.

“One,” Will counted.  “Two.”

“Oh Warren,” Layla sighed, skimming her hand down his back, as Will counted in the background.  “How are you, dear Warren?”  She could feel his muscles rippling under her touch, flinching at the sudden contact, tense as a result of his awkward position, shuddering from the impact of the vines in his mouth and his ass.

“Six,” Will’s voice was faltering.  “Seven.”  It was taking longer for him to manage the words, but the vine patiently waited for each count before delivering the next blow.

“I wonder what must be going through your mind right now,” Layla mused as she dug her nails into Warren’s shoulder and took pleasure in his muffled groan.  “You can hear Will counting but you can’t  _ see _ him, and trust me, you are missing out.  You know that his skin bruises so easily - it heals faster than you or I, of course, but the blows are coming too quickly right now for his skin to heal.  His ass looks so pretty right now, marked with stripes of red.”

She locked eyes with Will, who was still counting.  “Seventeen.  Eighteen.”

“Will is always such a good boy for me,” Layla sighed.  “Even when he’s being punished, he knows that he must put on a good show, so he is counting bravely and holding back his cries of pain.  But it must not be  _ so _ painful after all, for he is getting hard again.  Warren, I wish you could see this, his angry red cock thickening and lengthening along his thigh, bobbing as he jolts with each impact.  He is biting his lips between lashes, and they are so red now, perfect for sucking cock.”

Layla was only so good at dirty talk, so she directed her next question at Will.  “Do you like being whipped, Will?”

“Twenty-six.  I do, Mistress.  Twenty-seven.”

“Since Warren can’t  _ see _ how much you like being whipped, why don’t you  _ tell _ him how much you like being whipped?  Tell him what you’re feeling right now.”  Layla pet Warren’s hair as she spoke, slipping through her fingers through its silky strands and tugging a bit too hard at the end of each stroke.  

“Thirty.  It hurts, it stings where it hits me.  Thirty-one.  It burns, my ass is on fire.  Thirty-two.  But it’s a good hurt.  Thirty-three.  Each blow is a reminder.  It grounds me.  It- thirty-four.  It reminds me to be good for you. I want to be good for you.”

Will’s voice was quavering now, and Layla bit her lip, wondering if fifty was too many.  But Will could handle it, she knew, so she continued.  

“Remember now, Will, this is a punishment.  What are you being punished for?”

“For coming without permission, Mistress.  Thirty-seven.”

“So it is very important that you  _ don’t _ come now,” Layla commanded.  “You still don’t have permission.”

“Thirty-eight.   _ Please _ let me come, Mistress,” Will begged, desperate.  “I want to be good.  Thirty-nine.”

“Why, does the pain turn you on, Will?  Does it make you hard?”

“ _ So _ much, Mistress,” Will said, voice thick.  “Forty.”

“If you can make it to fifty without coming, Will,” Layla said, “you have permission to come.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” Will said, but Layla knew it wouldn’t be that easy.  Will was something of a masochist - it wasn’t that pain gave him pleasure as such, but being  _ punished _ with pain turned him on, and he could easily come from a few spanks, to say nothing of fifty lashes from a vine.

“If you can make it to fifty without coming, Will,” Layla said, “not only can you come on the fiftieth stroke, I’ll let Warren come, too.  Would you like that, Warren?”

Warren grunted something that could have been agreement or a vehement denial, and Layla continued petting his hair.

“If it gets to be difficult,” she soothed Will, “you can take a few breaths before counting the next stroke.  It will help.  Because if you come  _ before _ fifty, then both you and Warren will be punished, and neither of you will like that.”

Warren let out a groan.  “Forty-five.”

Aware her well of creativity might run dry soon, Layla graciously waved her hand.  The vine that had heretofore functioned as a blindfold immediately slithered away.  Warren had to blink a few times against the harsh light of the warehouse, but his gaze was quickly drawn to the beautiful tableau that Will made, the very picture of noble suffering, every muscle taut with pain and pleasure.

“See how hard he is,” Layla murmured to Warren.  “So how much desire is coursing through his veins.”

Warren groaned again.

“See how close you are to losing your right to come,” Layla said.  “See how his cock is getting harder with each stroke?  See how close he is to coming - and we have four strokes left.”

“Forty-seven.”

“Three left,” Layla corrected.

“Forty-eight.”  Will’s fingers tightened around the vines holding him up, and she could see him strain not to pull too hard.  “Forty-nine.”

Will looked up, and she smiled at him, gently, and nodded.

“Fifty.”

With a hoarse cry, Will came again, his back arching as he spilled his seed all over the ground.  At the same time, Layla waved her fingers and Warren’s vivid green cock ring disappeared in time for him to come as well, just as the vine in his ass slammed into his prostate.

Layla’s plants quickly went to work, growing a lush layer of grass in the middle of the clearing to act as a cushion.  Some vines swung by with a blanket that she’d stashed away the day before, which she haphazardly spread across the grass, while the other vines deposited her boys gently on the blanket beside her, extracting themselves from any orifices as necessary.

Layla hugged her boys close, rubbing their shoulders, kissing their hair.  Warren was always clingier after sex than you might expect, lacing his fingers through hers and Will’s, big spoon to Will’s little spoon.  Will was always sleepy after sex, and she could tell that he could barely keep his eyes open as he laid his head in her lap.

“My good boys,” she murmurs as she rubbed their backs, smoothed their hair, gave them all the gentle caresses she’d had to hold back during the scene.  “My lovely boys.”

They stayed like that for a bit, a huddle of bodies that might have appeared like a mass of arms and legs that never ended to an untrained eye, taking comfort in each other’s presence.

When Warren had the presence of mind to speak again, of course he had nothing for her but sass.  “It not fair,” he sighed.  “How come Will got to come twice, but I had to wait until once at the end?”

“It’s not my fault my super-strength gives me a shorter refractory time than you,” Will teased.

“I’ve recovered more than enough to fuck you right now,” Warren fake-growled, and bent his head to nip playfully at Will’s shoulder.

“Speaking of not fair, though,” Will said thoughtfully, “I don’t think Layla’s gotten to come at all.”

“Oh,” Layla flushed, “that’s alright, really.”

“Alright?” Warren said skeptically, as he and Will exchanged looks.  “No, I don’t think that sounds alright.”

“Let’s just rest,” Layla put up a token protest, but Warren and Will pushed her knees wide.  Warren tossed his hair before his bent his head down -- he always teased that he grew his hair just a shade too long just for her.  He knew how much she liked something to hold on to when he was demonstrating why he had been nearly voted Deftest Tongue for their high school yearbook (before Principal Powers had cottoned on that it was not, in fact, because of a skill with languages).  Will, while not quite as skillful with his tongue, had very clever fingers.  And if her boys were so good at what they did, and they wanted to please her, how could she object?

And that was her last coherent thought for quite some time ...


End file.
